


Bubble Tea

by Wikketkrikket



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Fluff, In which Tony is ridiculous, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikketkrikket/pseuds/Wikketkrikket
Summary: After a record stint in the lab, Tony is craving Bubble Tea. Unfortunately, getting hold of it might not be as easy as he anticipates, and getting home again? Even harder. It's lucky, then, that Steve is passing by.





	Bubble Tea

_Bubble Tea,_ was Tony's first coherent thought.

It always happened quite suddenly, this snap back to reality after he'd finished a project. It was also usually quite jarring, and was probably why he spent so long tinkering in the final stages, getting everything perfect before admitting something was finished. After days of working non-stop, totally focused, barely eating or sleeping, fuelling himself with work, and coffee, and ideas, after days of successfully not noticing anyone or anything, reality always liked to show back up with a vengeance. The moment he put down the last tool or finished the last scan, it would be waiting there to reassert itself.

Everything would ache, especially his head, which would ache inside and out and feel five stone heavier than it had the last time he had checked. His throat would feel like it had been scratched to ribbons by the hunger clawing its way out of his stomach. He usually had the urgent need for the bathroom, too, but didn't this time- which was not a very good sign. It meant he hadn't taken in enough food or liquids to have any to spare. He realised, suddenly, that despite the heaviness, he also felt light headed, at the same time. He needed food, drink and bed.

So, bubble tea. It was perfect; if he got one of the yoghurt-y ones it would be almost like food and drink at the same time. And it wouldn't take much swallowing, which he wasn't sure he was up to at the moment. _Yes,_ Tony thought, _Bubble tea and bed_. And tomorrow, he would get the Avengers in and explain what he had found out.

Tony began his usual routine for these situations. First, he checked his watch for the time and date. Then he realised the date wasn't much use to him as he couldn't remember when he had started the lab session, but he was too embarrassed to ask Jarvis. Either way, he saw it was just after 11AM, so he would be able to get the tea himself and not have to get Pepper to send someone out in the middle of the night and listen to her explain their different definitions of 'emergency' again. And, though the date didn't tell him much, he was pretty sure it meant that Happy wouldn't be around.

The thing was, Tony Stark traditionally did not respond well to change, and he did not like the stand in drivers or heads-of-security who popped up when Happy took vacation time, and Pepper and Happy did not like listening to Tony whine about the replacements. And so they had come to an arrangement where Happy would chose wherever in the world he wanted to go, Pepper would arrange it all, and Tony paid for the flights and hotels on the condition that Happy took his time off at a moment's notice, when Tony was busy with something and wouldn't need him for a few days. Later, Tony would text Pepper to say it was over and she would recall Happy while Tony slept it off. The arrangement suited them all so well that Tony hadn't realised that was how it was happening for the best part of a year.

But Happy or no Happy, Tony needed bubble tea as a matter of urgency, and the shop was only a block or two away. His aching muscles would probably benefit from moving a bit further than the confines of the lab, too. And so Tony made what was, for him, a fairly radical decision and decided to walk.

He headed upstairs into the lounge, and nearly collided with a older-middle-aged man who appeared to be mopping the hard wood flooring near the door. Tony yelped and jumped back, straight into another wave of dizziness, and had to hold onto the handrail to stop himself tumbling back down the stairs. The man yelled too, grabbing his chest in shock.

 _Please don't die,_ Tony thought, _I can't deal with that today_ \- but the man seemed to have recovered himself, and was now laughing.

'You scared me, popping out like that, Mr Stark,' he said cheerily. 'But then it looks like I scared you too. Work all finished, is it? Right you are, let me just put this away and I'll get out of your hair.'

'Uh...' Tony looked at the man, and the mop, and had no idea who he was. 'Do I know you?' His voice was rasping, hardly recognisable as his own. Damn, he needed that tea.

'Ron Stephenson, Mr Stark.' When the name drew no recognition, the man elaborated. 'I come in three times a week. I'm your housekeeper.'

'Oh,' Tony said. He had never realised he had a housekeeper, although now that he thought about it, things did have a habit of tidying themselves away when he wasn't looking. He'd honestly never really thought about it. 'You must be new?' He added, hopefully.

'I've worked here almost four years, Mr Stark.'

'Oh, well, thanks.' Tony felt suddenly embarrassed, and not just because the man had escaped his notice for so long – that was probably deliberate. But he suddenly found himself wondering about all the times he had left dirty socks or underwear strewn about the place, and whether it had been Ron who had picked them all up. Ron was older than he was. Tony was half afraid he was going to get a lecture on his untidy habits. Instead, Ron just picked up his bucket, apparently intending to leave.

'No, don't worry,' Tony said. 'You, uh, finish up. I'm heading out.'

'Okay, if you're sure,' Ron smiled, and went back to mopping. Tony hurried as fast as his aching limbs would allow over to the door. Hanging nearby was an oversized black hoodie, which he pulled on over his T-shirt, zipping it up to his chin and pulling the hood up as far forward as it would go. For once, Tony wasn't in the mood for selfies with his adoring fans, so he was planning to travel incognito. He found his dark glasses in the pocket and slipped them on too, hoping he would be more anonymous than he felt.

A few minutes later - he had been two floors down in the lift when he had realised he was barefoot and had to go back for shoes, and tried and failed to think of a way to stop Ron noticing- Tony was outside on the street. The heat hit him like the sun had personally taken the time to reach down from the heavens and slap him in the face. Stuck in the heavy black hoodie, Tony felt like every step could be his last.

And if the heat didn't kill him, the shame would. Sure, Ron presumably got the same employee package as everyone else: great insurance and benefits, long service awards, performance bonuses, a card on special birthdays, flowers sent to the house for special anniversaries and a batch of non-disclosure agreements thick enough to paper a wall with; but it was _different_ to some researcher or lawyer or administrator Tony was unlikely to ever talk to. This man worked in his house, it was personal, intimate – he saw his trash, for goodness' sake, and after a similar stint in the lab Tony had once eaten 12 Krispy Kremes in a single afternoon. Tony ought to have at least known he existed.

 _It was all Pepper's fault_ , he thought, sulkily. He was so hot by then that he thought he might actually die. Luckily, the bubble tea shop came into view just as he dragged himself round the next corner. For a second he was worried it was a mirage, brought on by heat exhaustion and dehydration, but no, the door was solid as he lent against it and stumbled through.

To Tony's great relief, the air con was on full blast, blowing deliciously cool. The temperature, Tony thought, might go some way to explaining why the tables and chairs arranged around the counter were all full already, a queue wending its way through them to the till. Well, after all, this was the best bubble tea place in the city or Tony Stark wouldn't patronise it. He'd been there a few weeks ago, pulled up outside in the Rolls on his way back from a party the night before, and the pictures had been all over Twitter. Now that he thought about it, the queue might be partly down to him too. Which was good as it meant the place would stay in business a bit longer.

After a few minutes basking in the blissful cold by the door, it occurred to Tony that nobody had yet acknowledged him or come to see what he wanted. In fact, if anything, the two baristas (did you still call them baristas in a bubble tea shop?) seemed to be deliberately _not_ seeing him. And as he looked over at them in confusion, Tony caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the counter and suddenly understood why.

Talk about incognito – he was basically unrecognisable. He had several day's worth of ungroomed, untamed beard growth sticking almost straight out of his chin. His face, what you could see of it, was greasy and pale, and his sweat pants were stained with coffee and oil. His hands were almost black. Coupled with the g;asses and the hoodie, which it was far, far too hot for anyone to reasonably be wearing, it was no wonder no-one had realised Tony Stark had just entered the store. If anything, it was amazing they hadn't seen him out. If Tony had seen himself walk in just then, he would have assumed he was here to rob the place.

Filthy as they were, he decided to keep his hands out of his pockets, where they could be clearly seen. And then he realised that, as no-one knew who he was, if he wanted bubble tea, he would have to wait in line with everyone else. Tony surveyed it in horror. The line was at least seven people long; how long would that take to clear? He'd never had to wait in line in his life.

Well, never except in Afghanistan. Every so often, instead of bringing his food to the cell, they would march him out to a kind of mess hall, poke and prod him under heavy guard into the food line, to get his meagre portion when he got to the front. He had never been totally sure on why, but they always seemed to have an awful lot of soldiers and heavy weaponry around when it happened, so it had probably just been to remind him of his position. The thing was though, by the end he had almost looked forward to it, those rare glimpses of the outside world...

But this wasn't Afghanistan. He could see the outside world through the windows just fine, and if the people around him in the queue had guns, they probably wouldn't just wave them around willy-nilly. Even in New York, it was too early for that sort of nonsense. Besides, Tony really wanted that bubble tea. And so, he shuffled into the line.

Damn, it was _excruciating_. How did people do this every day? He just wanted bubble tea, for goodness' sake. How many hours over the course of a lifetime did normal people spend just _waiting_? Tony briefly bounced up and down impatiently on the balls of his feet, but stopped when his aching muscles protested. He wished he could take the hoodie off, but he didn't want to risk it. He really couldn't deal with people right now. It was cooler in here, but his head was still spinning. He was starting to wish he had gone to bed first instead. He wondered if Ron would have changed the sheets for him, then wondered how he had never bothered to wonder how he had fresh sheets every two days.

At long last, _days_ later, Tony was at the front and the barista (?) was eyeing him slightly suspiciously. Tony tried to smile reassuringly. The barista (?) did not seem reassured.

'Good morning,' she said brightly, all the same. 'What can I get for you?'

Tony tried to speak, but all that came out was a super weird rasping sound. The probably-barista looked downright alarmed. Hastily, Tony cleared his throat – _Also, coughing hurts bad now –_ and asked for a strawberry base, with peach pearls. It was his favourite. The other barista (?) turned around and started work. Tony practically salivated all over the laminated wood of the counter.

'That'll be $4.50, please.'

Tony reached into his pocket. And then into his other pocket. And if his sweatpants had had back pockets, he would have reached into those too, but it would have just been for show. Tony Stark had not carried cash since 1992. But Tony Stark, apparently, also did not carry his bank card as a matter of habit. If it was work stuff, Pepper always sorted it out. He ordered 90% of his personal goods online, or Happy handled the actual paying part. At least, he assumed they did. Walking around as Tony Stark, or even as Iron Man, tended to bring a lot of free stuff his way. Cap called it 'paying with your face'. Cap rarely accepted freebies.

Unfortunately, his face was not currently recognisable, and his bank card was presumably somewhere in Stark Tower. _Ron probably knew where_ , Tony thought bitterly. If he'd had the man's number, he could have got him to bring it down instead of having to cancel his order – his heart breaking – and leave the beautifully cool interior of the shop for the baking heat of the world outside.

It was as if he had stepped out into a totally different world. Even though he had literally just walked there, Tony suddenly had no idea where he was. He turned, uncertain, disorientated. The road hadn't changed but for some reason, he was drawing a total blank on how to get home. Panic surged like bile up his throat, and if there had been anything at all in his stomach he might have vomited right there in the doorway of the tea shop. What was happening to him? How could he not know the way home from a place he frequented, a place he had walked to without thinking just twenty minutes before? He should have paid more attention to the route. But no, he knew the route. Didn't he? No, he didn't. He must do. But he didn't, he didn't.

Home wasn't far, he knew that. But he looked up and down the street, desperately, and neither way seemed right to him. What if he went the wrong way and got more lost? He'd realised in the course of searching his pockets that he didn't have his phone either, and nobody would believe he was Tony Stark in this state. Was he going to have to sleep under a bridge tonight? What if he never remembered his way back, and just wandered further and further in the wrong direction? How long until someone realised he wasn't in the lab and came looking? How far would he be by then?

And his brain, his brain was all he had, his brain _was_ his super power and it was letting him down. What was wrong? Was he going crazy? Losing his mind? Or was it Alzheimers or dementia kicking in? No, no, he did not want to end up one of those empty shells of a person, wandering around lost, taken home by the police to somewhere he didn't recognise, friends and carers he didn't know – he needed to get home and run a full set of scans, _now_. But he didn't know where home was.

It was hot. Way too hot. He was going to faint. Was that why he couldn't remember? He was going to die.

'Tony?'

Tony's heavy, giddy head snapped up. He knew that voice, even if he knew it best from orders in the field, even if it usually called him 'Iron Man' or 'Stark', even if the only time it was 'Tony' was times like this, incognito in public, because 'Tony' and 'Steve' were surprisingly ordinary names that wouldn't draw nearly as much attention from passers by – it was Cap. And Tony had never been so happy to see him.

'Steve,' Tony said, trying his best to sound normal. The distraction from his spiralling thoughts let some air sneak back into his lungs, and he was Tony Stark. A little was all he needed. 'Out shopping?'

'Groceries,' Steve said, holding up his plastic shopping bag-for-life in illustration, because of course he was such an old man that he took his own bags to the store. Tony was so dehydrated at this point that he found it endearing.

 _Steve knows where you live. Steve can get you home_.

But Tony did not want to just throw himself on the mercy of Captain America like some lost little kid. This would take some finesse and cunning.

He wondered, wildly, whether he could just seduce Steve and take it back to his place. But he wasn't sure Steve went in for that kind of thing, and anyway, at that moment, Steve was just looking at him incredulously. He was incognito too, wearing a baseball cap and large sunglasses similar to Tony's. It didn't hide his face as well as Tony's hood did, but it didn't need to; Steve was also wearing a plain white t-shirt, khaki knee-length shorts and honest-to-goodness flipflops. Anyone who looked at him and thought it was Captain America would hesitate when they saw he wasn't wearing full-length formal trousers, and would definitely change their mind when they saw his feet.

Incidentally, Steve had no leg hair, like, _at all_. Tony had noticed before, with some delight, how rarely Steve had to shave his face; but he hardly ever had to get a haircut either. It seemed like some side effect of the serum was that hair didn't really grow on Steve, which was _weird,_ because if those muscles were anything to go by the serum had been crap-full of testosterone, so if anything Steve's legs should have looked like rolls of carpet.

'Tony? What's going on?'

 _Crap_. The hairless legs had been a good distraction but now he had been staring too long.

'You look terrible,' Steve continued. 'What happened?'

'Nothing. Just finished in the lab.'

Steve looked at him, eyes widening. Not that Tony could see his eyes behind those dark glasses, but he could hear the eye-widening in Steve's tone. 'Not still analysing the... _item_?' He couldn't say it in public. 'Stark, you started on that _six days_ ago.'

'Yeah, well, you try running scans on materials made from a compound of previously undiscovered elements. I had to invent whole new pieces of equipment just to get a proper look at the damn thing. I filed like 50 new patents.'

'We're grateful for your work, Tony, but-'

Tony was in no mood for a Captain Sensible lecture. He knew six days was a long time, even for him. His need for bubble tea was greater than ever. 'Great, then you can thank me by getting me a bubble tea. Strawberry. Peach pearls. Chop chop.'

Steve did not _chop chop_ , looking up at the store instead. 'What exactly is bubble tea, anyway?'

'It was invented in Taiwan in the 1980s.'

'Great, but that doesn't tell me what it _is_.'

'Actually, Steve, it tells you _everything_. Trust me. Well, maybe it doesn't tell you, because you know nothing about the 1980s - '

'I watched _Back to the Future_. You said that film _was_ the 1980s.'

'Look, it's tea or, I don't know, yoghurt-y stuff with little chewy bits in, I don't know what they're made of, but they're good and I'd like strawberry with peach chewy things. Please.'

'Tapioca,' Steve said, reading a poster in the window. His mouth turned down in the corners. 'I hate tapioca. When I was a kid I used to have to go to my neighbour for dinner while mom was working, and that was all she ever made for dessert. She used to make me have seconds, too, I think she knew no-one liked it.'

'You'll like it here, trust me, it's great, bubble tea is great, know what I recommend? Strawberry and peach, Steve!' It was getting hard to breathe again. He needed to trick Steve into taking him home. But bubble tea first.

'Alright,' Steve said cautiously, and went inside. While he waited, Tony looked around him again. Nope, still no idea where he was in relation to home. He felt his throat close and coughed, trying to clear it. He was still coughing when Steve returned and thrust the drink into his hands.

'Nearly 10 dollars for two drinks,' Steve grumbled, politely declining to notice how Tony snatched the drink away from him and slurped greedily at it. Tony barely noticed his words, drinking his bubble tea like his life depended on it, which it honestly might at this point. He sort of remembered the bots bringing him sandwiches and glasses of water and many, many cups of coffee over the last 6 days, but he couldn't remember how much he had actually eaten or drunk. Not much, from the looks of things.

He caught sight of Steve putting his own straw between his lips, his nose crinkled slightly, probably in anticipation of the hated tapioca. Steve slurped surprisingly delicately for a man of his size, but then, everything that man did was graceful and controlled, whether it was doodling-in-briefings-when-he-thought-no-one-was-looking or straight-up punching someone into next week. Tony had never seen him drink from a straw before, though. He liked it.

 _Damn_. He went back to his own drink, slurping hastily, scanning the skyline. Maybe he could see the tower from here. But no, there were too many high rises in this part of the city.

Beside him, Steve coughed. 'Urrgh, what is that? That is terrible.' Then he put the straw back in his mouth and carried on drinking.

'If you don't like it, don't drink it!'

'I paid $5 for it, I'm not wasting it,' Steve declared, pulling a face. 'Does it just get worse as you drink more of it? That's revolting.' He sipped again.

Tony laughed. This man was ridiculous. Then again, Steve wasn't the one lost with no idea how to get home. Tony wanted to cry.

'Whatever. I'm heading back,' he said. 'Come with me, I'll show you what I found.'

'No,' Steve said. 'The trail's dead anyway. You go home, get some sleep, get a shower, and we'll come tomorrow.'

'I don't mind. It's fine. Bubble tea woke me up.'

'It's not fine,' Steve said. 'You haven't showered in six days, Tony. You stink. You can't brief us if everyone's fainting from the smell.'

Tony thought this was a tad unnecessary. He couldn't seem to smell anything at that moment – _his brain really was falling apart –_ but he suspected Cap was probably right. And the thick hoodie wouldn't be helping matters. Beneath it, Tony was acutely aware that his shirt would probably have to be removed with a chisel.

'Why don't you take that stupid thing off, Tony?' Steve asked, apparently thinking the same thing. 'No-one is going to recognise you with your beard like that.'

Tony shook his head. 'Someone will, and I don't need the hassle today Steve, I really don't.'

'Tony? Everything okay?'

'Fine,' said Tony, in a very un-Tony-ish sort of voice. He was glad for the glasses. He thought he might actually be starting to well up. And now Steve didn't even _like_ bubble tea, when bubble tea was the best.

Steve squeezed his shoulder. 'Go home, Tony,' he said, kindly. 'Clean up and get some sleep. We'll come talk through your results tomorrow.' He smiled, turned away, and Tony realised in a panic that Steve was going to leave him stranded here.

'No, I'll come with you for a bit,' he gabbled. 'I want to see what Captain America buys for dinner. Is it all just apple pies and burgers? The world needs to know.'

Steve threw him a strange look, or probably did, because again, _sunglasses_ , but didn't try to stop Tony from falling into step alongside him. They continued along the street.

The problem was, Steve walked fast. And it was so, so hot. And Tony still had no idea how he was going to get home, and he was eventually just going to have to admit to Steve what was happening, and then that would be it. No more Iron Man, no more inventing, not if he was losing his mind. It was all over. And it was _hot_.

'Tony? Tony, sit down.' Steve's arm was under his, steering him over to a bench. Tony was surprised to find he more sort of fell onto it than sat on it. 'You can't keep that thing on,' Steve said, and a second later he had pulled the hood down off Tony's head, replacing it with his own baseball cap. Tony looked up at him, wondering if Steve wasn't worried about his own cover being blown, but no, he still had the flipflops. Tony pulled the zip down on his jacket and shrugged it off. The relief was immediate. It was still too hot, but it wasn't quite as unbearable as it had been.

'Someone will recognise me,' he said, a token protest.

'I'm standing in front of you, they won't see you,' Steve replied, lining himself up a little more neatly. 'Finish that drink. And mine.' He passed over his half-finished bubble tea, strawberry and peach, the same as Tony's.

'You're just trying to get rid of it.'

'I'm trying to stop you passing out,' Steve replied, looking up the street. He gently reached forward and pressed on the back of Tony's neck, moving his head down. 'Stay here. Drink those. Keep your head down.'

Tony nearly choked in his panic. 'Why? Where are you – don't, don't leave me.'

He hadn't intended to say that. And he couldn't read Steve's reaction behind those stupid glasses. Tony had an urge to reach up and tear them off, see what his eyes were saying.

'I'm not,' Steve said, shortly. 'I'm just going to go in that convenience store there, get a few things. I'll be right back.'

'I'll come with you.'

'No, Tony.'

'Steve, I...' he wanted to tell him he didn't know how to get home, that if Steve left him he'd end up as a vagrant forever, but he couldn't. He'd already surrendered most of his dignity. Steve already thought he was some beardy, smelly mess. He couldn't make things any worse.

'Tony, I'll be two minutes. I'm not leaving you.' Steve tilted Tony's face downwards again, and left. Tony drank his bubble tea, and when he was done, he finished Steve's. He did not switch the straws.

He had just finished when Steve returned, his old-man bag full of groceries and what looked to be about 4 half-litre bottles of water. Tony was surprised to see them. Steve seemed very much like the _why would I pay for water when I can get it out a tap_ kind. And why hadn't he just bought one of the larger bottles instead of several small ones? Tony discovered the answer to this when Steve pulled the empty bubble tea cup out of his hands and replaced it with one of the bottles. It was wonderfully cold.

They didn't refrigerate the large bottles, so Steve had bought him the small ones.

Tony drank. By the time he was half way through the second bottle, he was feeling better. He wasn't so hot. His head was still heavy, but it was no longer spinning, and the ground seemed to have settled beneath him. His throat wasn't so painful. Even his heart rate was more under control. He could almost remember the way back, like it was there in his head ready, but every time he tried to think of it the thought would slip away again.

'So,' Steve said. 'Are you always like this when you come out of the lab?'

'No,' Tony said, not sure whether it was true or not. Then again, he was not normally in the lab so long.

'Then what happened? Is the analysis bad news?'

'No, no more than usual anyway. Honestly I don't have much for you. It's a new material that could be made into some dangerous stuff. I don't know who made it or where, though I have a few suspects. One of -'

'Tomorrow,' Steve said, nodding to a young couple just passing by. Right. No confidential information to be discussed on a public bench. 'You need to take better care of yourself, Tony. I know you like your work, but you're a grown man. You can't run yourself into the ground like this. It's irresponsible.'

'You think this is irresponsible? This morning I found out I'd had a housekeeper for the last four years I never knew existed.' Tony spoke casually, but honestly, he wanted to talk to someone about this. The encounter with Ron had freaked him out more than he was willing to admit.

Steve snorted, a sound that Tony had learnt was his equivalent of a belly laugh. Steve was more of an amused-smile kind of guy, so when he made a noise, you knew you had really got him. 'I didn't think even you were that bad.'

 _I didn't think even you were that bad._ Steve was right. He wasn't. Tony sat up straighter.

'Tony?'

'I'm not.'

'What?'

'Steve, come on, I wasn't thinking straight when I came out of the lab but – he said _four years_. Even I would have noticed someone coming in and out of my house for four years!'

Steve processed what he said and was immediately all business. 'What are you saying, Tony?'

'I left him there. I didn't know who he was and I just left him there! Of all the stupid - All my analysis, the material, it's all still out in the lab-!'

'It's alright,' Steve said, getting up. 'We'll handle it. Let's go.'

They went. Tony found that now he had stopped fixating on it, he knew the way home without even thinking about it.

 _Huh_. Brains were weird.

 

 

***

 

All Tony wanted to do was sleep. Unfortunately, Pepper was really, _really_ mad.

'I don't know what you were thinking!'

'We were thinking,' Tony said, 'That he was a spy.'

'He is sixty two years old!'

'That, uh, doesn't actually mean much,' Steve said, tentatively. Pepper rounded on him. At least it wasn't just Tony getting screamed at this time.

'So I gathered, given that he told me you tackled him and tied him to a chair!' She shook her head. 'I really thought you had more sense than this, Captain.'

'What was I supposed to think?' Steve sounded almost as exasperated as Pepper. 'Tony didn't know who he was. I didn't think even _he -_ '

'Look at him!' Pepper said, waving at Tony. 'Look at him, Steve, does he _look_ sane to you right now?!'

Steve looked at him. Pepper must have seen something in his expression that Tony didn't because she sighed deeply, rubbing her temples.

'For goodness' sake. This is getting ridiculous. Anyway, Tony, how could you not know who Ron was?'

'You should have introduced him,' Tony said.

'I _did_. Four years ago, when I hired him.' She shot Tony a filthy look and turned back to Steve. 'Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a housekeeper for this place? One that won't complain after a party or an alien invasion or, or, the Hulk, messes the place up?! One that isn't just trying to sleep with Tony, or that Tony won't try to sleep with, or that won't, I don't know, steal his underwear for the tabloids?!'

Steve looked surprised. 'Did that really happen?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied. 'It was one of the bigger stories that year. Destroyed the last few hold-outs who still wore briefs.'

'What's wrong with briefs?'

'We aren't talking about underwear!' Pepper yelled. 'We are talking about how _you -'_ She pointed at Tony, 'Got a _supersoldier_ to tackle your _housekeeper,_ and _you -_ ' She jabbed a finger at Steve. 'Were stupid enough to listen to him! Honestly, Tony, this is beyond belief. Who did you _think_ was cleaning up after you all the time?'

'I didn't really think about it,' Tony shrugged. 'You?'

Pepper looked angrier than ever. 'I have better things to do,' She said coldly. 'And you are a _grown-ass man_ acting like a four year old. Get it together, Tony.'

 _Ouch._ Tony nodded, not daring to argue. Pepper took a deep breath. 'Good. And as for _you_ ,' she turned to Steve. 'I'm sick of this.'

Steve looked confused. 'Sick of what? I don't make a habit of attacking housekeepers, it was just-'

'Sick of _this_ ,' Pepper clarified, waving a finger between them.

Steve and Tony looked uncertainly at each other. Pepper sighed, throwing her hands up.

'I don't even care any more. I was all like 'don't push them, let them figure it out, it's up to them to talk to each other', but you know what, _you deserve it_. Steve, let me tell you a little known fact about Tony Stark: He is bisexual. Well, really, I'd just say he isn't fussy, but for simplicity's sake, let's call him bisexual.'

Steve was focused on Tony, not Pepper. He looked shocked. He didn't say anything. Wait, was Steve homophobic? He had never _seemed_ homophobic, but he was that generation. Was Pepper so mad she was deliberately sabotaging the best friendship Tony had? He opened his mouth to try and deny it, but Pepper steamrollered on.

'You know why he's never seen with men, Steve? Let me tell you about the absurd levels of petty-mindedness Tony Stark can achieve. He did have a boyfriend once, as a teenager, and his dad found out, and was _understanding_ , and _nice_ , even though he was never nice about anything else, and told him it was _fine_ to be gay and so, of course, Tony Stark decided to never see a man ever again!'

Steve was thinking something, Tony could tell, but he was dammed if he could tell what. Why wouldn't Steve _say_ anything?

'And Tony, let me tell you an even less known fact about Steve Rogers, he is also clearly a bisexual! Evidence for this includes his _obvious_ crush on Clarke Gable and the fact he looks at you like you're the damn _moon and stars!_ '

Tony had never heard Pepper speak with so much emphasis, but that wasn't the real reason he was looking at her in shock. He turned to look at Steve, who was slightly red in the face, but held his gaze.

'I'm sick of seeing that stupid expression on your face, Steve,' Pepper said, into the silence. 'Just, just, I don't know. Sleep with him or marry him or do whatever you need to do so you can get your brain out of your pants and not go around attacking housekeepers for him.' She turned back to Tony. 'I think I can keep this out of the courts and the papers, but I hope you realise you are putting _all_ of Ron's grandkids through college. All eleven of them. And it'll be you paying, Tony, _not_ the company, you can count on that.' With that, she swept out. The two men barely noticed.

'Are you really? Bisexual?' Tony asked, after a second.

Steve raised an eyebrow. 'What, you think the 21st Century invented it just because it named it?'

'No, but... you never date! I just assumed you were straight!'

'And you call me old-fashioned.' Steve got to his feet, decisively; a movement Tony had seen too many times to be fooled by. When Steve started taking firm action in a situation like this, it was usually just him trying to take back control of a circumstances he felt were beyond it.

'Are you leaving?' Tony asked, slightly crestfallen. Even if Pepper was right about Cap's sexuality, it looked like she was wrong about the rest.

'Yes. You need to rest. And shower, Tony, I'm serious.' Steve looked down on him, and suddenly smiled. 'You might want to sort that beard out too. Tomorrow's a big day.'

And somehow, Tony knew, Steve wasn't just talking about debriefing the Avengers any more.

'Okay. Okay, right. Tomorrow. Got it.'

Steve nodded curtly and headed for the door to the elevator. When he reached it, he turned back to look at Tony. 'Don't push yourself that far again, Tony.'

'I'll try,' Tony said.

'No,' Steve said, matter-of-factly. 'You won't do it again. I'll persuade you not to.' And he actually, seriously, honestly, _winked_. It was cheesy as hell, and Tony _loved_ it.

He took a shower and put his beard back in order, and then he went straight to bed.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

 


End file.
